


Forgot to send the invitations

by bluebells



Series: Ceasefire [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, interrogations, the secret is out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: This is not how he imagined his day going after Hana wrested the cereal box of LÚCIO-OHS from him at breakfast and emptied it over Genji's head.





	Forgot to send the invitations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shokubenii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shokubenii/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority."

"So, tell me."  
  
The red interrogation light clicks on and Lúcio stares from the black muzzle of the microphone to the air commander hulking on the other side of the steel table. Fareeha Amari folds her arms over her white sleeveless tanktop, biceps rippling. Lúcio appreciates it for the split second before the sharp look in her eye shrinks him in his seat.  
  
"About what?" he resists the instinct to swallow his nervousness.  
  
"The nature of your relationship with Akande Ogundimu."  
  
Lúcio blinks. "Huh. Well."  
  
It feels like his heart has imploded. His pulse roars in his ears. He hopes the flush doesn't show in his face.  
  
This is not how he imagined his day going after Hana wrested the cereal box of LÚCIO-OHS from him at breakfast and emptied it over Genji's head.  
  
Fareeha isn't asking about Doomfist. Not only Doomfist, at least. Akande Ogundimu predates the gauntlet.  
  
"He's --"  
  
Casually arrogant, has only two facial expressions (scowling or smirking - always has a back up plan, an ace up his sleeve), is strategic and terrifying for how quickly his mind works -  
  
"I don't know him that well."  
  
And he's stupid hot.  
  
Lúcio thinks about those huge, powerful hands stroking down his back to lift him by his ass, moulding his muscled thighs around a barreled waist.  
  
"I mean," Lúcio searches the ceiling, thoughtfully, shoulder lifting in a gentle shrug. "We've met. A few times."  
  
In street fights, down dim alleys, in the medic bay of Overwatch's drop ship (that still rates in Lúcio's top five), on high rise balconies in the summer heat of Numbani's evenings.  
  
Pinned on his back; kneeling to ride; crushed, squirming and panting against cold hangar walls, on conference tables, and notably, once, even in a real bed. Well, that's not true. Akande has shown him the decency of a bed more than once. Sometimes within the same night.  
  
Fareeha's eyes narrow down her nose at the medic's glazed look of recollection. "You've met."  
  
"Mmhmm." Lúcio nods, distractedly. He can't help it, because Fareeha put it on his mind now, thinking of that bed.  
  
The warm glow of the Oasis sunrise across Akande's shoulders as he pulled Lúcio into his lap for a tight embrace, and buried his face in the DJ's hair.  
  
"I never want you to think you’re anything less than my top priority," Akande whispered, and closed a golden circlet around Lúcio's left wrist.  
  
Lúcio wasn't naive enough to believe him, he had broken in to see Akande during a Talon mission for goodness sake (and maybe sabotage a few shipments of their payload on his way out). Akande was always on mission. He IS Talon. But at the time, that didn't stop Lúcio's heart from answering for him.  
  
The circlet weighs heavy on his wrist as Fareeha plants one of the intercom phones before him on the steel table.  
  
The pale overhead spotlight gleams off the golden beads in her hair as she cocks an eyebrow at him, buying none of his act.  
  
"I'll need you to call your warlord husband now, dos Santos. And in the time it takes him to get here, you can explain to everyone why you're updating your relationship status."

**Author's Note:**

> I look forward to Lucio dealing with the fall-out of Hana and Co. squawking about why they weren't invited to the wedding (read: there was no wedding, just a couple of half-asleep, love-drunk idiots trading non-binding promises, they didn't even have witnesses, it doesn't count).


End file.
